Yellow Gloves and Flower Crowns
by o.AndFlyingMachines.o
Summary: Quinn steps up to defend Artie on the playground. Was for Quartie Week: Quartie As Kids.


_**Disclaimer: **Glee is not mine._

_**A/N:** So I kinda just ignored the whole "Lucy Caboosey" thing. Though I suppose it could still happen later. _

**Yellow Gloves and Flower Crowns**

Quinn, well, _Lucy_ Fabray sat daydreaming off to the side of the playground. It was recess and she would sometimes run around with the other kids or follow some of the girls, giggling with them at whatever they were giggling at, but today was one of those days she just wanted to think and play in her own head. She liked it. She could be anything or go anywhere she wanted. She could be someone of importance... At home she was rarely listened to, mostly just told the rules and set on strict schedules and yelled at if she misbehaved. At school she mostly followed the others, tagged along on their fun. Didn't speak up in class unless called on, didn't cause trouble or outshine others. She just sorta... _was_. So when she got to pretend she was someone amazing, she felt most happy.

"You can't be a prince!" The young voice was disbelieving and edging on _annoyed_ as it traveled over the playground.

"Why not?" It was quieter, confused, and maybe a bit hurt – as if knowing the reason but not wanting to believe it.

The shrill voice returned with an answer, huffing, "Because princes are strong and fearless and you can't even walk!"

She could almost _feel_ the strike of words on the small boy with glasses and new, yellow gloves. His name was Artie, she remembered, and he was sort of quiet but sweet -now. He always kind of had been, but now he was more subdued and usually kept to himself; less grins and burst of laughter, no more running about pretending to be a plane or dog or dinosaur. The accident happened at the end of last year and, even though he was a year younger and so a grade beneath her, she still missed seeing him at recess. They had been told what happened -sort of-, so his friends wouldn't worry and so everyone would be "polite and welcoming" when he came back. But he hadn't come back that year. There was only a month or so left when it happened, but Quinn would always look out to spot the boy; wanting to see that he was alright. Wanting to see that bright, happy boy so carefree it made her little heart warm with her own happiness. She had to wait 'til this year to see him again, though, and he wasn't quite so _carefree_. He was still _him_, but he looked so sad sitting in his chair most the time that it hurt her. She ended up watching him more than she use to because, completely by chance, she saw that grinning little boy again. It was sudden and faded pretty quick, but it was a enough to assure her that he wasn't completely broken. And she was watching him get stronger every single day. It gave her hope.

She hated how he seemed to play less with others, how others would avoid him or even ignore him. He was starting to reach out more though, asking to play with others instead of just sitting back. Sometimes he'd be welcomed in, sometimes he'd be shrugged off or promised a "next game", and sometimes others would just be mean -whether on purpose or not really. The girl currently standing in front of Artie was one that didn't care what her words did to others, spoiled and thinking she was in-charge of everyone else.

Her stomach churned and anger gripped her tiny body, marching over just as the boy was about to wheel away. Hand latching onto his armrest, she kept him there. She turned to her classmate, Melissa. "He's _not_ a prince," she started, watching the other girl's face nod in confused agreement and trying to ignore the way Artie's shoulders slumped a bit more. "He's a king." She smirked at the shocked expression twisting on Melissa's face. "He's not weak, he just takes his throne with him everywhere." Smile turning warm, she looked to the boy who was gazing at her unblinkingly. He looked like he wanted to say something, and Quinn wished he would, but was interrupted.

"That's stupid! That's not a throne and he's not a king. You've got to be a prince first and- and it just doesn't make sense." Her arms crossed over her puffed out chest and a mean little pout on her lips. Quinn managed a pretty cold glare even at 10 years old.

"And why do _you_ get to decide?" she replied, her own arms crossing.

"I'm not deciding I'm just... saying what people can and can't be." Quinn's glare hardened and the girl rushed on. "I'm not _making_ them, I just say what they'd be good for and he isn't a prince. Or a king. He's more like a... pheasant or something."

"Peasant," the boy corrected softly, head ducked low and Quinn felt a new rush of anger.

"And what are you, Melissa? A princess?" The girl nodded, smiling proudly. Quinn scowled. "More like an evil ol' witch!"

The girl gasped and looked hurt. Good. She ran off and Quinn sighed, thankful she didn't have to keep up that mean look – it was tiring.

"Thank you." His voice was still soft but his head was tilted back up to look at her.

Quinn shrugged but smiled. "She was being stupid and mean."

The brown-haired boy nodded but looked down to his hands fiddling in his lap, as if he didn't quite believe the girl had been so stupid. And that made Quinn sad because she knew he'd been starting to get back to his more confident self and didn't like seeing him fall back. Not knowing what to say though, she changed the subject. "I like your gloves."

He blinked up at her before looking back to bright yellow gloves, only a little dirty from this past weekend and today and far different from his black ones. Blue eyes danced back up to hazel, a small smile stretching and a blush creeping across his face. "Thank yo-"

"_Her! _Lucy said it!"

Both turned to she Melissa dragging a teacher towards them and Artie's eyes grew wide as Quinn's narrowed.

"Lucy, did you call Melissa here a witch?" Mrs. Pulford asked patiently.

Quinn put on an innocent face. "We were just picking out characters."

The teacher considered her a moment before answering, "Don't you think Melissa would like to choose her own character?"

Quinn shrugged, trying to keep her annoyance from ruining her innocent look. "She was telling Artie he couldn't be a prince. And she said he more like a..." she paused, not wanting to be wrong, and Artie supplied the right answer of 'Peasant' again. She continued on, "So I thought we could all tell what we thought the other was best for."

The adult listened carefully and then looked to Melissa, who was guiltily spying the ground, and turned back to the small blonde girl. "You don't call people witches, Lucy. You hurt Melissa's feelings. You've got a time out." Quinn huffed and glared at a smirking Melissa, but said nothing – she knew better than to talk back. "And Melissa, you don't get to tell others who they can and can't be. You hurt Artie's feelings when you did so. You also get a time out." Quinn bit back a laugh at the other girl's wide eyes, dropped jaw, and whining. Their teacher held up her hand to hush the girl. "Melissa, you go stand at that wall and don't move a step. Lucy, you go stand by Santana."

Quinn turned to go do as she was told and saw the apologetic look on Artie's face. She just smiled and gave his hand a squeeze as she left.

Standing facing the wall as was the rule for time-outs, Quinn glanced over at the dark haired girl not three feet away. "Why're you here?"

The girl turned her head slowly to look her over, as if wondering why she was being asked and if there would be a better answer one way or another. "I hit Rickie. And his nose is bleeding."

Quinn's eyes flew wide. "Why?"

Santana gestured to a white-blonde girl sitting not far away, happily drawing on the ground with sidewalk-chalk. "He made her cry," she said simply.

Quinn thought she liked this girl and wondered why they hadn't talked before.

"I think we're best friends now." The girl sounded unsure and sort of bewildered, still watching the other blonde.

"You _think_ you are?"

"Well, she gave me a flower, that means she's my best friend right?" Santana turned to look at her and Quinn spotted the little daisy being toyed with by two tan hands. "I've never had a best friend before." She was shy now, head dipping like how Artie's had and sounded so _quiet_.

Quinn offered a smile. "I think it means something. I'm sure you'll be the best of best friends."

Santana smiled, shifted to peer back at the girl just as a small voice cleared on her other side. Quinn turned to see Artie next to her and grinned – she couldn't help it. "I just- I wanted to say thanks again, Lucy-"

"Quinn," she rushed. She had been calling herself Quinn instead of Lucy for some time now, had even talked about liking Quinn more with her parents – neither had started calling her it, though she wished they would. Quinn seemed more... like a name for an adventurer. She hadn't told anyone else because it seemed silly and pointless to try and just change her name but she loved Quinn so much more and, for some reason, she wanted Artie to be the first to start using it.

His eyes widened and he looked embarrassed as he started to fumble. "Oh! I'm sorry. I thought- Your name... and didn't the teacher? I'm sorr-"

Quinn quickly waved him silent, not wanting him to be so flustered over nothing. "No, my name _is_ Lucy, I just... I like Quinn better. It's my middle name." She could feel herself blush and it sounded so weird to _tell_ someone to call her something different that they knew. She almost wished she hadn't.

"Oh. Alright. Quinn," -she _almost_ wished she hadn't- "I really liked what you said about my chair being my throne. I never thought 'bout it like that. It's kinda cool. I um..." He was fidgeting again and Quinn looked down to see what was in his hands. It looked like a bunch of flowers, but when he lifted it up and out to her, she saw that they were weaved together to form a- "I made you a crown." Quinn just stared because no one had done something like this for her before(she thought this must be how Santana felt) and it was really, _really_ pretty. "I just thought that you ought to have a crown, you know, 'cuz you stood up for me and called me a king and I thought you'd be a great queen 'cuz queens would protect kings and queens need crowns and-" his words were fast and almost panicky and, as he was gulping in a breath of air, she stepped in.

"Thank you." She reached out and carefully took the delicate crown. It was made of daisies -where were they _finding_ them?- and dandelions, braided together and best the little boy could manage, and all white and yellow and fresh green. She lipped it onto her head. "It's beautiful, Artie."

He blushed and she couldn't help but match.

"You should probably go before you get in trouble for talking to me," Quinn said reluctantly, she liked talking to the boy more than just watching him. He seemed just as reluctant to leave but nodded and started to wheel himself backwards.

"Thanks again, Quinn." And she smiled.

It may have looked silly to stand there the entire rest of the recess period facing a wall with a crown of flowers on her head, but she didn't care. All she could think about was the yellow-gloved king and his brightening smile and how he'd chosen her to be queen. Queen Quinn.


End file.
